


Multitudes

by ScribbledGhost



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Connected Dreams, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Multiverse, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Whiskey finally confronts his Feelings(tm), Yearning, the works, yknow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbledGhost/pseuds/ScribbledGhost
Summary: The Statesman techs have managed to create a window into another universe. A window that just so happens to appear in your kitchen. Before long, you and Whiskey both find yourselves developing feelings that appear to span across time and space itself. Multitudes chronicles the relationship of one smitten cowboy and his interstellar lover.
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader, Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

There was very little the Statesman techs could develop that would surprise Jack Daniels. He’d seen them invent gel that could bring men back from the dead, after all. But when he assembled in the underground lab with them and Champ one late afternoon to view their latest development, he sincerely thought they were pulling his leg. There was just no way they were being serious.

“Alright, so lemme get this straight,” he said, barely concealing the grin of a man sure that he’s in on whatever joke is being told, “y’all have developed a way to just… open a door into an entirely new universe? At the drop of a hat?”

“Well, more like a window than a door,” Ginger responded, “we can’t reach out and touch what’s on the other side, and we can’t hear anything on their side. But we can see it.”

Jack started chuckling to himself, earning a look of confusion from not only the techs, but Champ as well.

“Ok, now I know you’re pullin’ my leg,” he said as he continued to laugh, “there ain’t no fuckin’ way you’ve managed to rip holes in universes on command.”

“Actually, Agent Whiskey,” another tech that Jack recognized as Agent Soda said, “there’s absolutely a way.”

With this, the two techs led Jack and Champ over to an odd machine, and Jack remembered seeing them work on it in piecemeal fashion over the past few weeks. He hadn’t thought to ask anyone what it was; he’d simply assumed it to be another piece of medical equipment. If only he’d known.

For all intents and purposes, it looked like a decently-sized screen. Smaller than the average two-way mirror, but larger than most of the other broadcasting screens at Statesman. Ginger was busy tapping away on the nearby command console, while Soda was busying himself verbally reading out the steps and results of the startup. Once it appeared that everything was in its place, Ginger presses the final few buttons to initiate the sequence.

“So, what,” Jack said, “we gonna see some aliens or somethin’?”

“Maybe,” replies Agent Soda, “We’ve seen a few different things in the couple times we’ve tried before. First try was just empty space. Second was somewhere in some ocean. We haven’t managed to see any living organisms yet, though.”

“Can you control where it pops up?” Champ asked.

“No, not yet,” Ginger answered, “right now it just comes up in a random universe and in a random spot. So it’s pure chance at this point.”

Champ nodded, and just then, an image flickered onto the screen.

“Are you sure you programmed this right?” Jack asked, “Cause that looks an awful lot like a regular place on this planet.”

“Oh no, we programmed it right,” Soda said, “gentlemen, you’re looking at a person in a completely different universe.”

You appeared to be in your kitchen, grabbing a bottle out of your refrigerator. Jack was sure he smirked when he realized that the liquid inside looked an awful lot like whiskey. It appeared more than just the human visage had spanned multiple universes. The bottle was around half empty, and just as you were getting ready to pour yourself some, you caught sight of the window. And both sides stopped cold and held their breath.

No one moved for several moments, frozen still in their bewilderment. That is, until you looked at the bottle of alcohol with an expression that was the epitome of confusion. You stared at it for a few strange moments, as if it were the cause of your new encounter.

Then you proceeded to pour the rest of the alcohol down the kitchen sink, sneaking sideways glances to the window every few seconds.

Jack found himself unable to keep from dissolving into a fit of laughter at your reaction, and was quickly joined by Champ. Ginger was furiously writing on a tablet, and pressed it against the barrier, hoping to catch your eye before you walked away and out of sight.

_Can you read this?_

Thankfully, your attention was drawn to the new addition on the other side of the odd window. Your eyes flicked across the tablet, and you looked at Ginger and gave a nod, one of your brows quirking upwards ever so slightly. Jack saw her smile at you in return, putting up a finger in a “wait there” motion before scribbling more words on the tablet.

While she was writing, your eyes wandered across the group. Soda was busy checking the stats associated with the machine, but Champ managed to catch your eye. He gave you a polite “hello” nod, one that you tentatively returned. Jack continued to watch as your eyes moved on.

Then your gaze fell on him.

He gave you his own cowboy nod, and this time you not only returned it, but Jack caught the ghost of a smile grace your lips as well. You were cute, he had to give you that. A strange pull in his mind wanted to know more than just about your world. Just as Jack realized he was getting lost in your eyes, however, Ginger turned her tablet back to you and pressed it against the window.

_My name is Ginger. To the left of me is Agent Champagne. To the left of him is Agent Whiskey. To my right is Agent Soda. We’re with an organization called Statesman. Does that exist where you are?_

Jack saw you skim the tablet, your eyes darting over to each person as you read their name. He couldn’t help but smile when your eyes flickered over to him, staying there just a touch longer than they had on the others.

When you got to the question Ginger had asked, you looked up and shook your head, then motioned for her to wait while you stepped out of frame. You came back with a pad of paper and a pen, then started writing your answer. It didn’t take you long before you were turning the pad over for them to see.

_No_ , it read, _we don’t have any Statesman org here. Where exactly **are** you, anyway?_

Ginger began writing her answer down, and you turned your pad of paper back to you as you waited for her. It took her a surprisingly short amount of time for her to turn her tablet back to you.

_We’re in another universe,_ she wrote, _we developed a window into other universes. It just so happened to pop up in your kitchen._

You nodded slightly before taking a few seconds to scribble your own reply.

_At least that explains how you guys replaced an actual window in my kitchen. Instead of seeing the house next door, I see you guys._

“Interesting…” Jack heard Ginger mumble as she scribbled down notes on another tablet, no doubt documenting the results of their little experiment, “I wonder if it will always replace an existing window when one’s available or if that was just a fluke.”

The group turned back to you then, noticing that you’d written another note.

_I’m 90% sure I’m hallucinating, but at least this is fun._

Jack couldn’t blame you there. Hell, even _he_ wasn’t completely sure of what he was seeing. Just then, he caught sight of another note from Ginger as well.

_No hallucination,_ it read _, I promise. But if it would make you comfortable, we can turn this off and get out of your way permanently._

Even then, Jack found a small pit in his stomach that hoped you declined such an offer. He wanted to know more, and not just about the universe you were in. He saw your body jerk slightly as you read the note, and he was sure that if he could hear you, he would hear a puff of air that approximated a laugh. You started writing on your pad of paper, and Jack felt his heart rate tick upwards in a subconscious reaction that confused him. Surely that tiny part of him that wanted to know more about you wasn’t large enough to effect the beat of his heart. Right?

_Just what a hallucination would say,_ your response read, _but no, you don’t need to turn it off. I can help you guys out if you want. Answer questions. Just as long as you answer mine, too._

Ginger began to write with a fervor, a grin on her face before she gave her own answer on the behalf of Statesman.

_Of course. Thank you so much!!_

The only answer you gave her in response was a polite nod, and it was then that the techs and Champ bid their goodbyes to go discuss the results and implications of their experiment. Jack watched them leave, then turned back to you to see you writing on your notepad again. When you turned your note to him, he saw that you’d given him your name.

_Figured it might be important to know,_ the note read.

Jack felt his lips tick into a lopsided grin as he reached for the tablet that Ginger had left behind. He wrote out his own note, then turned it back to you.

_My real name’s Jack,_ it read, _my code name here is Agent Whiskey._

You smiled softly as you read his message, then continued as you wrote another of your own.

_Well, hello there, Jack,_ you responded, that soft smile still on your face. Jack found himself mirroring it, already knowing this little “experiment” was going to mean something far different to him than it would to the techs. He wrote his own note, turning it back to you while declining to change his facial expression.

_Hello there, darlin’._


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t long after Jack had bid you hello that he had bid you goodbye, needing to make his own way home for the evening. Upon arriving at his modest ranch, he spent the evening locked in his own mind, pondering the potential repercussions and possibilities of what he’d just witnessed. He went to bed exhausted that night, a venture not uncommon for him. However, he was apparently not too exhausted to dream about his new interstellar acquaintance.

Jack found himself in a blank white room, similar to that of the Statesman labs, save for the fact that it was completely barren, devoid of any kind of medical devices or technology. There was a large transparent wall bisecting the room in half, and on the other side stood you, looking at him with a curious tilt of your head.

Jack made his way to you slowly, as if wanting to make sure he didn’t startle you. When he approached, you slowly raised a hand before placing it palm-down on the barrier before you. Without thinking, Jack did the same, pressing his palm against the cold glass and willing himself to feel the heat of your hand on the other side.

You were speaking, but he couldn’t hear you. He tried his hardest to read your lips, to understand what you were trying to tell him, but the scene seemed to spin around him, rendering his concentration inert. You seemed… panicked? Concerned? He couldn’t pin down the exact expression you wore, but he knew enough to figure it wasn’t positive.

Then he was wrenched awake, his alarm clock blaring into the silence of his room. Jack turned to shut it off, willing the sour feeling in his stomach to go away before he made it to work that morning.

Once he made his way to work, Jack made a beeline for the labs, under the guise of just checking on the experiment out of curiosity as opposed to needing to alleviate the deep-seated dread caused by his dream the night before.

Luckily the lab was empty, no doubt because Jack had managed to get there before most of the staff’s shifts started. He breathed a subconscious sigh of relief when he noticed that your kitchen was still visible on the other side of the barrier, and that the lights even appeared to be on. He sat there for a moment, willing himself to just turn around and go back to his office for the day. Just then, however, he saw you walk into the frame. You continued moving, as if you were going to walk out of the other side, but you caught Jack’s gaze out of the corner of your eye and stopped, giving him a smile and a wave.

He reciprocated both before grabbed the tablet that he’d sat in front of the window the previous night, scribbling out a quick “good morning” message.

 _If it’s even morning there, anyway_ , the message continued.

You smiled again then, your body moving as if you’d given him a slight giggle. He couldn’t even hear it, and he found himself slightly melting at the sight. You reached for your own notepad, then wrote your own note back to him.

 _It’s morning, don’t worry,_ you wrote, _I’m getting ready to head to work._

 _Yeah? What do you do?_ Jack asked.

You answered him, and then mentioned that it was close to time for you to leave before letting him know that you’d be back home around 5. Jack willingly resigned himself to staying at the office later than normal that day.

 _Well, have a good day at work, sugar,_ Jack offered.

You threw him a bashful smile, one that immediately settled in his chest and made a home there.

 _You too, Jack :)_ Was your last answer before you sat down your notepad and gave him a wave as you walked out of the frame and turned your lights back off for the day.

Before Jack could let his smile get too subconsciously smitten, the lab doors opened, and Ginger walked in accompanied by Champ.

“Whiskey!” Ginger said as she noticed his presence, “You’re here early. Is everything still functional?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Jack said, quickly pressing the “erase” function on the tablet like a guilty teenager who’d been using the internet on the family computer, “she’s still there, just left for work. Said she’d be back around 5.”

“So she’s on the same time as we are,” Ginger muttered as she went over to document more results from the overnight run of the experiment. Jack watched her go, then turned his gaze back to Champ, who was staring at Jack with a knowing grin.

“What?” Jack demanded, already feeling warmth rising to his face.

“Oh, nothin’,” Champ said, still keeping that infuriating grin on his face, “it’s just that 12 hours is pretty quick for you to get infatuated with this girl.”

“I ain’t _infatuated_ ,” Jack responded, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice and grateful that his words managed to go unnoticed by Ginger.

“You tryin’ to convince _me_ or _you_ , son?” Champ asked, moving past Jack with a clap to his shoulder.

The only response Jack could come up with was a frustrated grunt before walking back out the lab door and to his office for the day.

The world spun slowly that day, and not just because Jack spent most of his day waiting for the clock to strike 5pm. Most of it was tedious mission reports from junior agents, interspersed by the occasional business meeting to keep up the brewery front that kept the organization going. More than once he found himself having to scrub his hand over his face in a desperate attempt to stay awake through the monotony.

He neglected to think about how he suddenly gained all the energy in the world as soon as his watch read 5pm.

Jack immediately signed off of his devices, making his way back to the lab without allowing for any kind of distraction. When he walked in, Ginger was already hard at work writing notes to you on her tablet, while you’d pulled up a chair with your own notepad to respond. He stopped short of letting himself think he saw your eyes light up when you caught sight of him. Champ was also in attendance, and Jack gave him an angry squint when he realized that Champ donned the same annoying grin he had that morning as soon as he walked in.

“What’s new?” Jack asked.

“Well,” Champ started, “from what we can tell, most everythin’ is the same between her world and ours. There’s just no Statesman, at least as far as she knows. Power struggles are still the same between countries, and the leaders of ‘em are still the same. Poor thing’s actually apologized a few times for her universe not bein’ _more_ interestin’.”

Jack huffed our an amused laugh. You were living in an entirely separate universe from them, and you felt the need to apologize for it not being more different. Just then, you turned your notepad around with your own message on it.

 _So what is it that you guys… **do** , exactly?_ It read.

The group stopped for a moment, sharing looks that silently asked how much they should tell you. Jack noticed how your brow furrowed, and before long you presented them with another note.

_Did I ask something I shouldn’t have?_

Jack took the initiative, plucking the tablet from Ginger’s hands and drafting up his own message to you.

“Ain’t no reason we can’t just tell her,” Jack said as he wrote, “She’s in a different universe. Not like she can go around leakin’ company secrets.”

 _You’re fine, honey,_ his reply read as he held it up to the window, _Statesman is a secret intelligence agency supported by the government here. We do all sorts of missions on the State’s dime, though we pull in our own funds through a brewery company front._

You read the note and nodded in understanding. From there, Ginger snatched the tablet back from him before shooing him away to continue her own questions.

Jack sat back and watched your exchange, wishing Ginger would ask questions about you directly as opposed to the world around you. But those questions never came, and before long Ginger and Champ were once again bidding their farewells and going home for the evening, Champ patting Jack on the shoulder with another sly grin, though this time he at least attempted to hide it.

 _How was your day, darlin’?_ Jack wrote.

There it was again. That bashful smile, the one that made him feel warm and content.

 _It was okay,_ you answered _, I work with the public, so I’m a little bit tired. But I’m okay. How was yours?_

Jack could see the fatigue in your features as he talked back and forth with you. Your shoulders sagged more, your eyelids doing the same as if you were struggling to stay awake.

 _Why don’t you turn in early, sugar?_ Jack prodded, _Get a good night’s sleep?_

You began to write your response, but stopped. Jack watched as you seemed to bite the inside of your cheek as you contemplated what you should answer with. Your eyes flickered back to Jack a few times, but eventually he saw your shoulders heave with what must have been a sigh before you finished your note and turned it back to him.

_I will here soon, but… I like talking to you._

Jack’s face broke into a grin as he felt his heart bloom. You offered him a smile in return, as if you were relieved you hadn’t scared him away. It took him no time at all to draft up his response.

_I like talkin’ to you too, sweetheart._

The way your smile grew could have put the sun itself to shame.


	3. Chapter 3

_There he was, in that same damned room again._

_Blindingly white, completely devoid of anything other than a barrier and you on the other side of it. Once again, your hand pressed against the obstruction, and his hand did the same, and once again, Jack willed his mind to feel the warmth coming from your hand that was mere inches yet billions of miles away._

_You still looked upset, though you weren’t speaking. Instead, you were seated on the floor, leaning against the glass as Jack’s hand pressed against yours. You simply looked at him, searching his features for something that Jack couldn’t comprehend._

_He felt his thumb begin to rub back and forth against the barrier, as if he were trying to gently run it along the skin of your hand in a soothing manner. You caught sight of it, but the smile you gave Jack as a result was…. misty. Watery. As if you were trying your best not to cry._

_As the tears started to slip down your face and your head dipped low to hide yourself, Jack had had enough. He looked around for something - **anything** \- that could help him break through that barrier._

_It appeared that his subconscious recognized his desperation, because sitting off in the corner of the room was a metal baseball bat that he’d never seen before. Jack rushed to it and grabbed it, before making his way back to the glass._

Just as he felt his swing connect with the wall, his alarm went off.

How many times had he had that dream? How many times had he suffered through seeing you unhappy, completely unable to reach out and bring you close or comfort you in any way? Jack didn’t want to think about it. Instead, he busied himself with conducting his typical morning routine - get ready, head to work, and spend a few minutes down in the lab writing notes back and forth with you until you had to leave for work as well. 

It had been a handful of weeks since your first meeting, and yet Jack couldn’t help but feel the same sensation of butterflies whenever he walked into the lab on those early mornings. Between his talks with you in the mornings and evenings, Jack had managed to learn a lot. He learned about where you lived. Where you’d grown up. How you lived alone. He learned about the people in your life. He learned about your hobbies and your interests and about what you wanted from your time on this coil. 

And he’d told you all about himself in return. If you’d told him mere months ago that he’d be spilling his past and present to someone who’s voice he’d never even heard, he’d call you a damned liar. But there he was, telling you about his hometown and his work and how he commiserated with you on feeling like his home was too big for one person in the dead of night. 

He kept the issue of his late wife and unborn son to himself, however, as well as the fallout from the event, choosing to spare you the more miserable details of his existence. Such discussions were still far too heavy for the tentative bridge the two of you had built between each other, anyway. 

Besides, he was already continually surprising himself with the amount of personal knowledge he was willing to impart on you, despite never having heard your voice or felt your touch. There was just something about you that made him feel like it was okay for him to tell you such things. There was something about you that felt… safe.

As Jack walked into the Statesman lab that morning, however, he noticed a different scene on the universe window than what he was used to. 

You were seated on a kitchen chair, wrapped up in a blanket. Your kitchen lights were on, but your eyes were set at a squint, as if the light hurt to look at. As Jack caught your gaze, you gave him a tired smile before shuffling the blanket around to reveal one of your hands as you gave him a tiny wave. Jack immediately reached for a tablet and began to write to you, concern no doubt bare on his face.

_What’s wrong, sugar? You look tired._

More than that, you looked sickly. But Jack didn’t want to take the chance of offending you if you weren’t actually ill. You slowly reached over to your pad of paper, and began to write your response. Your movements were lethargic, and every so often you’d stop to pull your blanket closer to you.

 _Called in sick today_ , your message read, _been up all night. Low-grade fever for sure, but the nausea is the worst of it. I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep when I’m nauseous._

Jack was sure his face was a strange mix of concern and pity, and he couldn’t stop the sadness from hollowing out his chest as he continued to think about how he just wanted to come through the screen and help take care of you. Before he could draft up his own response, however, he saw you turn the paper back to your self and continue writing. It wasn’t long before you turned the note back to him for him to read.

 _I just didn’t want you to think I forgot about you_ , it read, and Jack nearly felt like his breath had been punched from his lungs. 

Your gaze turned away from him then as a small smile crept onto your face. He was sure he was the perfect picture of smitten adoration, but he couldn’t find it in himself to chance his expression. You thought about him. Even though you were sick and exhausted and should have been in bed, you still thought about him. He wondered if he was correct in seeing the hidden subtext of your message as well.

_I didn’t want **you** to forget about **me**._

He held his tablet in his hands, wondering what to say in response. Of course, he knew what he _wanted_ to say. It was only a matter of figuring out what he could say.

 _I know you wouldn’t forget about me, sweetheart,_ his note read, _and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the gesture. But why don’t you get yourself on to bed? At least lay down for a while. I won’t forget about you either, I promise._

You seemed to curl into yourself when you read his words, a giddy smile breaking through the tired one. You held your notepad close, like you were trying to hide your grin from him. As if he’d want you to hide such a thing. But eventually, you began to write again.

_Thank you, Jack. Really. I guess I should at least try to get some rest now. I’ll come back around my usual time if I’m feeling better. I hope you have a good day, Jack._

You’d drawn a little heart next to his name at the end. Jack was nearly overwhelmed with a desire to take a picture of the little thing and keep it tucked away in his shirt pocket, right over his own heart. But instead he gave you a nod and a smile, encouraging you to get a move-on. You stood up slowly, slightly wobbling on your feet, but you still managed to give him a small smile and a wave as you walked out of the frame and turned the lights off.

Jack let out a sigh, unable to really place what feeling was erupting in his chest at the sight of you being ill and worried that he’d forget about you after one day of not talking to you. But before he could psychoanalyze himself any further, he heard voices approaching from down the hall. He walked closer to the lab doors, faintly able to register the voices as belonging to Champ and Ginger. Having far too much on his mind that morning to deal with any ribbing (as good-natured as it might have been), Jack elected to stay out of sight as long as possible. As Jack tucked himself close enough to the door to hear, but far enough to still be out of sight if they walked in, he began to pick up their full conversation.

“Well, it ain’t a secret that Whiskey’s got it real bad for this girl,” he heard Champ’s muffled voice say, followed by an affirmative “mhm” from Ginger.

 _Bullshit_ , he thought. He didn’t “have it bad” for you. So he liked talking to you. Big deal. And yes, maybe he came into work early and stayed late just so he could do just that, and maybe he was having continuous dreams about you, but that didn’t mean anything. It was merely the intrigue and novelty of talking to someone in a different world. Sure, let’s go with that.

A traitorous warmth spread across Jack’s face, but he was wrenched from his thoughts by Champ and Ginger’s continued conversation.

“Not to mention I think she’s feeling the same way,” Ginger said, immediately catching Jack’s attention, “I’ve caught her looking at the lab doors a lot before he comes in. And every time he does, she always gets this smile on her face. Kind of the same one Whiskey gets when _he_ walks in.”

“Great,” Champ said with a chuckle, “so we’ve got two inter-dimensional lovebirds on our hands. And no idea how to deal with ‘em.”

“Well, we’ve been working on some new features that I think might help,” Ginger said, but before she could elaborate, they walked into the room and towards the monitor. Jack slipped out of the lab door undetected, and made his way to his office for the day. 

As the hours ticked by, Jack found himself consumed with thoughts of you. He found himself worrying if you were alright. If you felt any better. He found himself saddened by the idea that you had to take care of yourself on your own without any kind of support there with you. 

Once his watch read 5pm, he was on his way to the labs, just as he usually was. When he walked in, he saw you seated at your chair, and he smiled when he realized that you no longer had your blanket wrapped around you and that you looked like you’d managed to get some rest since that morning. Ginger turned to greet him, then told him about the few updated that had happened that day. 

“Well,” Ginger said, turning back to you with a nod that you reciprocated, “ I think we’re just about ready to do another test on the device.”

“…what kinda test?” Jack asked tentatively. If they were thinking about shutting the connection down and pulling up another universe, he was absolutely going to protest. He’d have no qualms about pulling the “senior agent” card to do so, either. That connection was staying put.

“We’ve been working on some new programming that will let us move the screen around,” Ginger replied with excitement, apparently not noticing the obvious sigh of relief that came from Jack, “That way we wouldn’t have to leave it in the lab overnight. Someone could take it home and keep an eye on it.”

Jack squinted at her as he noticed the knowing tone that she took on during her last sentence, coupled with the grin she threw at him when she was finished. It was a look and tone that he’d gotten used to getting from Champ over the past few weeks, though this was the first time he’d seen Ginger use it. 

“Well, go on then,” Jack encouraged, “try it out.”

Ginger and Soda went to their consoles again, tapping out sequences and commands while relaying information to each other about their progress. Meanwhile, Jack turned his attention to you, grabbing a discarded tablet and scribbling out a quick note.

 _Feeling better?_ he asked.

 _Much better,_ you responded as you mirrored his smile. 

“Alright, we should be ready to go,” Ginger said, walking back to the monitor.

“So what happens if this… doesn’t work?” Jack asked, apprehensive that the connection could be severed if the device was moved when it wasn’t supposed to be.

“If it doesn’t work,” Ginger said, “then we just won’t be able to move it. It’ll just stay stationary. No need to worry, the connection is strong and stable.”

Jack nodded, then turned back to you with a deep breath and a smile. He thought about how if this worked, then he’d be able to take you to the ranch. Show you around. Give you a better view of his world than the drab interior of the Statesman lab. 

“Would you like to do the honors, Agent Whiskey?” Ginger asked, startling Jack out of his reverie. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” he replied, then gripped the sides of the panel. The excited-yet-nervous look on your face surely mirrored his, and Jack couldn’t help but get lost in your eyes again for a split second before he lifted the lightweight monitor upwards.

And by god, the test worked. The screen lifted, and Jack was unable to keep himself from laughing slightly as he moved it around the room. He saw you clap your hands on the other side before putting them up to your smile, and he had a feeling you were thinking the same thing he was, because you reached out to your side of the panel and picked it up as well. When the experiment worked on your end, Jack made note of it to Ginger, just to make sure she knew it had worked on both sides of the universe.

Jack looked back at you as he held the large screen at arm’s length. You continued to smile as you did the same on your side.

Oh yes, this was going to change _everything_.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack had never been so eager to get home in his entire life.

Ginger and Soda had arranged the universe window so it could be safely transported in his passenger seat, along with the console stand it had been on. A cover had been placed along the buttons on the console, however, just so Jack wouldn’t accidentally press any buttons on the trip home (or in general). The drive home was slightly nerve-wracking, mostly due to Jack looking over at the screen every few seconds just to make sure the connection hadn’t wavered. During the trip, he noticed that you appeared to be carrying your window around your house, likely attempting to find a place to put it that was more comfortable for you to be in than in your kitchen. As he caught glimpses of your life, he let his mind wander, and he thought about the new possibilities that had just opened up for the two of you.

He thought about both of you having your windows in your respective kitchens and making dinner together. He thought about sitting the screen next to him on the couch and playing a movie with the subtitles on so you could watch it with him. He thought about propping up the screen just at the side of his bed, while you did the same, so the two of you could sleep facing the other.

Jack shook that last thought from his head, telling himself that such activities would be far too… _intimate_ for what the two of you currently were to each other. It’s not as if the two of you were a couple or anything. Simply interdimensional acquaintances. Of course. How could he have forgotten.

As he arrived home, he carefully brought the screen and console stand inside, setting the stand down gently in his kitchen before attaching the screen to it so he could be eye level with you again. It appeared that you had moved to your living room, or at least somewhere with a soft-looking plush chair for you to sit in. Jack smiled to himself slightly. At least that looked much more comfortable than the wooden kitchen chairs you’d been sitting in up until that moment. He quickly grabbed a spare notepad from the junk drawer, along with a pen once he’d spent a few precious moments rifling through the drawer to find it, and drafted a note to you.

_How about a quick house tour, sugar?_

He saw you smile and nod, and he smiled in return as he saw you straighten up in your seat. The console stand was equipped with wheels, so Jack simply led it throughout the house at a slow pace, intermittently jotting down notes to show you to tell you what each place was.

_Kitchen._

_Living room._

_Dining room._

_Back porch._

_Bedroom._

Eventually he brought the window back into the kitchen, pulling up a dining chair before writing another note.

_Whatcha think?_

You picked up your notepad and wrote your own message back to him.

 _It’s beautiful,_ it said, _very rustic. Very…_ _ **you**_ _._

Jack chuckled at your choice of words before he drafted his own message in return.

_I’m nothin’ if not committed to the aesthetic, sweetheart._

He saw you laugh on the other side of the screen, and was suddenly overcome with a desire to hear your voice. He wished he could talk to you in more ways that just through notes. Wished he could hear your laugh. Maybe he’d discuss the prognosis for an audio update with Ginger tomorrow.

 _I’m gonna make some dinner_ , his next message read, _care to join me?_

You nodded to him, and Jack got up and maneuvered the screen to where it had a decent angle of most of his kitchen. As he set about collecting what he’d need to make the fried chicken and mashed potatoes for himself that he’d been craving most of the day, he noticed that you hadn’t moved from your perch on your chair.

 _You makin’ anything, honey?_ He asked.

You shook your head before showing him a note.

 _I already ate_ , you replied, _had some cereal._

 _Oh, come on now,_ Jack’s reply read, _that ain’t a real meal. You gotta at least get you somethin’ warm._

 _I will tomorrow,_ you wrote with a tired smile, _but I’m full for now._

Jack called bullshit, but left the issue alone as he went about his business. It felt… odd, having someone watch his movements without being able to talk to them at the same time. He briefly wondered if he could set up a talk-to-text on his phone and rig up a way to keep it pressed against the window for you to see, but he figured he’d try that kind of experiment at a later date. Or at least during a time when his hands weren’t covered with flour and egg.

As Jack continued to make his dinner, he would turn around and catch your eye every so often. And every time he caught it, you would turn your gaze elsewhere with the same shy smile he’d grown so fond of over the past few weeks. As though you were embarrassed to be caught looking at him, but still couldn’t find it within yourself to regret it.

When his cooking was finished, he brought the screen into his dining room and sat down, along with a plate and his notepad. You both wrote notes back and forth during the duration of his meal, most of them centering around the kind of foods you both liked and how no one has ever managed to make him biscuits and gravy quite like his mama’s. Jack once again asked if you planned on getting anything more to eat that was at least a warm meal, but you turned him down again, saying it was fine and that you really weren’t hungry, anyway. Between that and the tired look beneath your eyes, he knew in the back of his mind that there was something else at play, but he kept his thoughts on the matter to himself for the time being. He would have time to press further later. Once you knew each other better.

Once he was finished eating, Jack wrote you another note.

 _I gotta pack the rest up and finish cleanin’_ , he wrote, _wanna join me_?

 _I’d love to_ , you replied with a sad smile, _but I should get to bed. I’m exhausted. Tomorrow, maybe?_

Jack nodded his head as he wrote back to you.

_Tomorrow then. I look forward to it. Sleep well, sweetheart._

_You, too, Jack._

You smiled at him again, then got up from your chair and turned the lights off. As Jack went about his business in the kitchen, he let his mind wander again. It was only 6:45pm, what were you doing going to bed at such an early hour? He wondered if you were still feeling ill from earlier that day, and he kicked himself for not asking. As he grabbed the plastic containers to put his food in, he realized that he always seemed to make too much food for him to eat. He knew he’d take some for his lunch tomorrow, but even after that, there’d still likely be food left over.

He thought about how much easier it would be for him to just cook for two instead of one.

He spent the rest of his evening going over a couple stray mission reports that he’d brought home from work, sitting in his study while drinking a glass of his namesake liquor. Jack attempted to block out his worries about you, but you seemed to pull him back in every few minutes or so.

He remembered how your look had been tinged with sadness when you’d told him that you lived alone. He remembered how you’d made a joke of it when you told him you disliked going to weddings because they always “made you feel weird”, but he could tell there was something serious beneath the humor. Perhaps you were just as lonely as he was, constantly milling around your home and thinking to yourself about how large it always seemed to be for just one person. Perhaps you hated the isolation almost as much as he did.

Jack downed the rest of his glass, and thought to himself. Maybe if he got a good night’s rest, he’d develop the courage to ask you if you wanted to take your monitors to bed with you the next day, just so you’d have someone to wake up to for once.

 _Maybe I’ll ask tomorrow_ , he thought. Just then, he caught sight of the picture of his late high-school-sweetheart that he had on his desk.

Or maybe he’d stomp down the feelings he knew he was developing, just like he always had.

He needed another drink.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack never did get around to asking you about moving your screens next to your beds. He thought about it nearly constantly through the day, but at night, he always found his resolve wavering. Days came and nights went, but he always bid you a fond goodnight without asking if you’d maybe want to fall asleep next to him.

Nonetheless, he continued to be the designated screen-keeper outside of the office, which he was more than happy to be. He managed to cajole you into cooking with him a few evenings, though you always seemed to slip away from him to go to bed as soon as dinner was over.

Meanwhile, his dreams of you continued. They were always the same - you were always both stuck in a plain, white room bisected by glass, and he was always helpless to get to you. You always seemed so sad, and you never seemed to even attempt to speak. There was always some sort of object on Jack’s side, and he always grabbed it and attempted to smash through the barrier with it.

He always woke up as soon as he made contact with the glass.

But that night… that night his dream was different.

It started the same. Still in the same room with the same glass while you were upset on the other side. But this time, when you looked up at him with sad, doe eyes brimmed with tears, he saw your mouth move. At first, he couldn’t tell what you were saying, and his confusion must have been enough for you to repeat yourself more plainly. He watched your mouth move, and finally understood what you were trying to tell him.

_I love you._

Jack awoke with a start, blindly reaching for you before he realized you weren’t there. That you’d never been there.

If you’d pressed him - really pressed him - Jack Daniels would admit that he let a tear slip down his face that morning.

He got ready slowly, and bid you good morning when he caught sight of the screen he’d left in his dining room that night. Immediately your face melted into a concerned frown, and you raced to draft him a note.

 _Are you okay, Jack?_ the note read, _You seem upset._

He quirked a tired smile as he reached for his own notepad. Of course you’d noticed. But what could he say? That he’d dreamt of you telling him you loved him? How it had ripped his heart out to realize you weren’t in his bed and likely would never be there? How he’d looked over and saw the photo of his wedding on his bedside table and couldn’t even look a picture of his late wife in the eyes afterwards?

How about none of the above.

 _I’m fine, sweetheart,_ he replied, _just tired, that’s all. By the way, I gotta go on a work mission this weekend, so once I drop ya off at the lab, I won’t see ya again til Monday._

You nodded, a sad look overcoming your features. Jack knew you were both on borrowed time, lest you both be late for work, but you still penned him one more message.

_Ok. Be safe Jack. I’ll miss you._

He could have cried. But instead, he wrote you his own note, a final one before you left and he packed up the screen to take it back in.

_I will. I’ll miss you, too, darlin’._

You bid each other farewell, and Jack spent the drive to work in a haze. The mission he was being called for crept to the forefront of his mind, and he suddenly realized that Champ hadn’t told him what exactly it was that he’d be doing.

He dropped the screen off in the lab without incident, and made his way to Champ’s office. Since he’d gotten to start taking the window home, he’d stopped coming in before everyone else, so at least he knew he wouldn’t have to wait.

“Ah, Whiskey!” Champ greeted him with a grin, “Just the man I was lookin’ fo- what’s up with _you_?”

“Whatddya mean “what’s up with me”?” Jack asked.

“You don’t look right,” Champ said, “like somethin’s up.”

“I’m fine, Champ,” Jack said, seating himself in one of the plush leather chairs on the other side of Champ’s office desk, “Now what’s this mission all about?”

“Oh, no,” Champ replied, sitting down across from him, “I ain’t tellin’ ya until you tell me what’s goin’ on.”

Jack heaved a sigh and raked a hand down his face. It was no use trying to get out of it, he knew there was no way Champ was gonna let the issue go. And there was no way Jack could lie his way around it, either.

“It’s about that girl, ain’t it?” Champ asked, his voice quieter this time.

All Jack could do was nod, then heave another tired sigh before he started in.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s about her,” he said, “I… fuck, Champ, I don’t know-“

“Do you love her, son?”

You could have knocked Jack over with a feather.

“Wh- Champ, I’ve only known her for a few weeks!” He countered.

“Few weeks is plenty of time to fall for someone, Whiskey,” Champ retorted calmly, “you can admit it. It’s alright. I ain’t gonna judge ya.”

Jack held his face in his hands, with his elbows on his knees as he took several deep breaths. Sure, he could keep going, could expend as much effort trying to convince Champ as he spent trying to convince himself that what he felt for you was purely platonic interest. But Jack knew that Champ would see right through it.

“I…” Jack breathed out eventually, his voice muffled against his hands, “I don’t know. I don’t. Even if I did, I couldn’t… I couldn’t put her through that. Not to mention…”

“Not to mention your late wife,” Champ finished, knowing Jack wouldn’t.

“Right,” Jack answered.

“Jack…” Champ started slowly, as if he were carefully choosing his words, “you know she’s _gone_ , right?”

“ _Of course I know she’s gone!_ ” Jack snapped, sitting upright in his chair again, “ _I_ was the one who organized the damn funeral! _I_ was the one who got the call! _I_ was the one who had to go down to the fuckin’ _coroner’s_ office and-“

Jack stopped himself as he let the heat dissipate from his chest as his breathing evened back out.

“I know,” Champ replied with a calmness that Jack had infinite amounts of respect for, “I _know_ , Jack. But I _also_ know that you can’t go blamin’ yourself for what happened. And you can’t let it keep you from findin’ somethin’ good in your life again. Think about it: would she really want ya to stay miserable and alone for the rest of your life? Would you want that for _her_ , if the roles were flipped?”

Of course he wouldn’t. Of course he’d want her to be happy and to find something better. But-

“It’s not the same,” Jack mumbled.

“How so?” Champ challenged him.

“I…” Jack fumbled, groping desperately in the dark of his mind to try and grab hold of a reason, “I don’t know. It’s just not.”

“Well,” Champ said, sliding a mission file across the table to him, “you think on those questions, then let me know the answers when you get back. In the meantime, here’s your assignment for the weekend. Might be… _pertinent_ to your interests.”

Jack opened the file, and found a picture of you inside, no doubt one taken of the screen. Next to it was an address.

“Your job for the weekend, Agent Whiskey,” Champ said, “is to see if there’s a version of your girl that exists here. That address is the one she gave us for her universe, but who knows if a version of her resides there in ours. So that’s where you come in. Just spend the weekend pokin’ around, see if anythin’ comes up. If not, then we’ll assume she doesn’t exist here. But maybe we’ll get surprised.”

Jack nodded with a deep breath as he stood up from his chair and grabbed his go-bag for the plane.

So much for forgetting about his and Champ’s conversation over the weekend.

Jack boarded the Statesman jet without fanfare, sitting in one of the lounge seats while reviewing what little information was in the mission file. Mostly, he just spent the flight looking at your picture.

Champ was right. Jack knew he was. At least about his late wife. As for the other question… maybe Champ was right about that, too. Maybe he _did_ love you. He knew it was irrational to feel such guilt about it, but he found himself helpless to stop it. He felt like he was betraying his late wife, like he didn’t deserve happiness after he’d failed so spectacularly to protect her. He knew that was irrational, too; it wasn’t like he’d been the one to end her life, after all. But it still felt that way all the same.

The jet descended, and Jack disembarked from it as he made his way to the parking lot where his rental car was waiting. No use in shipping his bronco with him for just a couple days.

He thought more about Champ’s words on the drive to the address in the file. He knew if the situation had been flipped and it was his wife who’d lost him, he’d want her to be happy. He’d want her to move on, want her to find someone to bring a smile to her face when he could no longer do so. So why was it so difficult for him to accept that he deserved the same?

Jack shook his head after turning off the highway, clearing his thoughts for the time being as he closed in on the file address.

What if he found a version of you there? How would he feel? Would you be like “his” version of you? Or would you be the exact opposite?

Jack never had the opportunity to find out, however, because once he’d reached the address given to him, all he found was an empty splotch if land. It was as if a home had never even been there to begin with. Without thinking, Jack breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about losing control and pulling the not-you-but-still-sort-of-you into an embrace like he wanted to badly to do every time he saw your image through the window.

No, instead, he set to work doing some minor investigation. He went to the school you’d said you’d graduated from, flashed his credentials, and looked through their records, but found no trace of you. He even ventured to try and find a trace of any family members you’d mentioned, but found nothing on that front, ether. If you did exist in this universe, it sure wasn’t as the version of you that the Statesman knew.

Jack found a quick hotel to spend the night at, though he spent most of it staring at the dark ceiling. The longer he did so, the more he found his resolve failing him.

 _It’s different,_ he thought. _It’s different. Of course she’d deserve to be happy, she wouldn’t have been the one who hadn’t saved me. Except she would have, if the scene were reversed. But she’d still deserve to move on. Do **I** deserve it? **Should** I? Would she **want** me to? Of course she would. She always had the patience of a damn saint. She’d never be mad at me for movin’ on._

Jack let out a sigh as he let himself be consumed by sleep.

The next day he continued his search, but still came up with the same amount of nothing he had the day before. He checked on possible relatives, schools, and workplaces, but none of them had any kind of record on you or anyone relating to you ever having existed.

He returned to the hotel for one last night, and instantly his thoughts drifted to you.

 _I wonder how she’s doin’,_ Jack thought. _Maybe Champ was right. Maybe a few weeks is enough to fall in love with somebody. Is it love though? Or am I just so damn lonely I’m takin’ the first opportunity I can get? No. No, that’s not it. I’d wait for the rest of my damn life if it meant gettin’ to be with her…. and I might have to. Maybe I’ll never hear her voice. Or hold her. But we got our notes. And I can still see her. Maybe that’ll be enough. No. No maybes. If what’s goin’ on in my head is really love, it’ll be enough._

The night before, Jack hadn’t dreamed. He hadn’t found himself in that white room, hadn’t tried to smash the glass separating him from you, hadn’t dreamt of you telling him you loved him. The night before, he hadn’t dreamed.

But he did that night.

Your hands were pressed together on either side of the glass, and once again Jack watched you mouth the words “I love you” to him, a riptide of fear coursing beneath your features. Except this time he hadn’t startled awake, hadn’t ripped himself from the dream.

No, instead, he answered you.

“I love you, too, darlin’.”

And you smiled at him, a look that burrowed into his subconscious to be replayed at a later date.

He woke slowly that morning, feeling none of the anxiety or sour feelings had been plaguing him for the past however many weeks.

And he knew. He had the answers Champ had asked him for.

He rushed to the airport, the Statesman flight crew already prepared for liftoff. The entire flight home, Jack found his leg continuously bouncing, and he was honestly surprised when the jet landed and he discovered that he hadn’t gnawed his fingernails down to the quicks.

Jack got off of the jet and walked to the parking lot with purpose, wasting no time in getting into his bronco and driving straight to HQ. Once he arrived, he continued his quest, barging into Champ’s office to find him with a glass of bourbon in hand while he overlooked the skyline of the city.

“So,” Champ said, turning away from the window to face him, “what’d ya find out? And I ain’t talkin’ about the mission.”

He must have been waiting for him. Before he could lose his nerve, Jack spoke. He minutely straightened his back, taking a deep breath as he finally said out loud what he and Champ already knew; as he finally made it real.

“I love her, sir.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I love her, sir.”

Jack stood still, his heart racing in his chest as if it were you that he’d just confessed to as opposed to Champ. He saw the older man chuckle, setting down his glass and walking over to him.

“I figured y’did, son,” he said with a clap to Jack’s shoulder, “I’m just glad _you_ figured it out. ‘Bout damn time, too. Now come have a seat and a drink, and tell me about this mission.”

Jack did as he was told, explaining how he hadn’t found any trace of you or anyone even related to you. Not in this universe, anyway.

“Interestin’,” Champ remarked, sipping his drink, “Seems like more than a few things are different between her universe and ours. Maybe they ain’t as similar as we think.”

“Yeah,” Jack responded, taking a drink of his own bourbon. The clock in Champ’s office only read 10am. He still had seven hours before you’d even get back home. But what would he even do when you did? He hadn’t seen you in almost three days, and it seemed a little forward to lead off his return conversation with “Hey so i know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks but I did some soul-searching while I was gone and came to the conclusion that I’m love with you”.

“Quit thinkin’ so damn loud, Jack,” Champ interjected, “it’s gonna be _fine_. She ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Jack took a deep breath, settling more into his chair. Champ was right. There was no reason to be in a rush. It’s not as if you were going to just up and vanish on him one day.

At least he hoped not.

Jack finished his drink, thanked Champ for the talk, and made his way over to his own office. The rest of his day was spent in a slowly-creeping drawl, a mixture of mission reports and business upkeep. Jack did his best to avoid starting at his watch, but he still found himself glancing at it every few minutes. To say he got very little done that day in the way of actually productive work would have been an understatement.

All he wanted to do was go down to the lab and ask about you. We’re you okay? You’d looked like something was wrong the last time he’d seen you Friday morning. Had Ginger and Soda managed to create any new upgrades to the window to make communication easier? Were they perhaps working on an eventual upgrade to let him hear your voice? He hoped so. He had his own ideas of what you truly sounded like, but he longed to hear for himself. Maybe then his dreams of that white room would fade.

He thought about the last time he’d seen you before he left for his mission. You’d seemed tired, perhaps even upset. He knew you’d taken some time off work and stayed home sick, but he wondered if that was truly the reason behind your fatigued expression. He hoped your dreams weren’t also being interrupted by disconcerting dreams like his were.

Jack wondered how you felt about him. He wondered if you were wrestling with the same difficult emotions that he was; if you, too, were worried about your feelings for him being too strong. He liked to think there was something behind the bashful smile you always gave him whenever he’d call you some sweet name, or how you’d even gotten out of bed sick just to talk to him the day before he’d left.

He liked to think there was some deeper meaning hiding between your words when you’d told him you would miss him while he was away.

Jack tried his best to keep himself focused on his work, tried to keep himself from thinking about whether or not you’d return the feelings he’d fought so hard to come to terms with. The seconds ticked by at a snail’s pace, and it seemed to be days before his watch read 4:45pm. Not exactly 5, but close enough, as far as Jack was concerned.

As Jack walked into the lab, he noticed how Ginger and Soda seemed to be engrossed in whatever they were doing off to the side, leaving the monitor unattended. It seemed to be pointed toward your front door, and Jack vaguely wondered if that meant you simply hadn’t gotten home yet.

As luck would have it, Jack was correct, and not a few minutes later the door opened and you stepped inside. As you closed it, you placed both hands on it as if to brace yourself, then heaved out what Jack could have only guessed was a deep sigh. You stayed stationary for a moment, then brought your hands up as you ran them down your face before dropping your arms completely. When you turned around, however, you spotted him, and your blank expression melted into a grin as you rushed towards the screen, grabbing a pen and paper along the way.

 _You’re back!_ Your message read, _How’d it go?_

Jack reached for his own tablet with a warm smile before he typed up his own message.

 _It went just fine, sweetheart_ , his message read, _Everythin’ okay there? You look like you had a rough day_.

You gave him a quick, tight smile before turning back to your notepad. You stopped a few times while composing your reply, as if to truly figure out what exactly you wanted to say.

 _I think every day at work is rough at this point_ , Jack read, his heart sinking a he did so, _but I’m home now, and you’re back too! So I’ll be okay_.

Jack smiled at the idea that you were so happy to see him again. He let his mind trail back to thinking that perhaps you felt the same things for him that he felt for you. He could allow himself a little time in that fantasy.

 _Well, I’m certainly glad I could help brighten your day, darlin’_.

You began to write a response, but it appeared that the two of you had been caught by none other than Ginger, who had noticed your return and had made her way to you.

“Oh good, she’s home!” Ginger chirped while Jack made quick work of the writing history on his tablet so as to not arouse Ginger’s suspicion any more than it no doubt had been already. Ginger gave you a wave that you politely returned, then turned back to Jack.

“Soda and I are working on a speech-to-text feature for the screen,” she said, “but we’re not quite done with it yet, so we’re going to focus on developing that over the next few days just to give her a break from all the questioning. Why don’t you get the screen on home for the night?”

Jack nodded, then began typing up another message while Ginger waved to you again and made her way back to where Soda was situated by one of the tech terminals.

 _Looks like they’ve let ya off the hook on the questionin’ today,_ he said, noting how you appeared to breathe a little relieved sigh when you read it, _they’re workin’ on a talk-to-text thing for the screens so we don’t have to spend so much time writin’. So looks like it’s time for me to get you home._

You nodded, and Jack noticed how your expression softened as you got to the end of his message. Home. How he wished he could actually bring you fully home with him.

Jack thought about just that while he drove his Bronco back to his modest ranch. He thought about walking you along his property, hand-in-hand. He thought about waking you in the morning with a homemade breakfast, then ending the day with a warm dinner. He knew how lonely living by yourself could be, and from the way you always spoke about the subject, he had no doubt that the lonesome nature of it was slowly eating you away.

When he got the screen (and by extension, you) home, he made sure to keep you nearby while he made dinner and ate afterwards, encouraging you to make yourself something warm, too. You blessedly agreed to, and Jack once again found himself wishing that Ginger and Soda would hurry up with that speech-to-text function so he could still talk to you with messy hands. Once the two of you had eaten, Jack pulled out his tablet and took a deep breath.

He wrote out his message, momentarily focusing elsewhere than on what you were doing on your end. As he looked up, ready to turn his message around, however, he saw yours.

 _This is probably going to sound weird, and you can say no if you want to,_ it read _, but do you think we could maybe… I dunno, move the screens to the sides of our beds this evening? Like I said, you can say no if this is too weird of a request, but… my house has felt awful big for just one person lately_.

Jack stared for half a moment, wide-eyed at how you’d beaten him to the punch. He let out a slight laugh, then turned around his own notepad to let you see what he’d been writing at the same time.

 _Hey darlin’, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to try somethin’ new tonight?_ His message read, _Cause I was thinkin’ maybe we could take the screens to bed. Set ‘em up at the sides or somethin’. No funny business, just sleepin’ next to each other. You can always say no if you want, though, I promise I ain’t gonna be upset_.

You read his, then mirrored his slightly wide-eyed expression before falling into what Jack could only assume was a fit of giggles on the other side as he laughed with you.

 _Looks like that answers our questions_ , you wrote back.

 _Sure does, honey_ , he responded.

The rest of the evening passed as it usually did whenever you would be awake for it. Jack worked on reviewing some mission reports on the couch, while he watched you working on your own laptop on your side of the universe. It was such a domestic feeling, and Jack could almost picture you sitting on the same couch, your legs draped over his while you typed away and he wrote suggestions into the margins of his reports. Not saying anything, and not needing to.

He kept an eye on you, noting when you started to yawn or stretch out more often. He noted that his own fatigue was creeping up on him as well, and got your attention before asking you if you’d like to go on to bed. You nodded, and the two of you began to shift your screens to your bedrooms. Jack had little trouble situating his at his bedside, though you’d had to rig up some support since there was no convenient monitor stand on your side.

Jack settled into his bed, just as you did yours. Once he was nestled beneath the covers, he watched you pull your blanket up close, almost to your nose. He wondered if it was cold where you were. You gave him a tired smile, along with a tiny wave. He was sure the smile he gave you in return was nothing but smitten, but he still displayed it nonetheless as he returned your wave. You grabbed your notepad for one more quick message.

 _Goodnight, Jack_ , it read, _Thank you for doing this_.

Jack grabbed his own tablet, then wrote his own message while you put your notepad away for the night.

 _You don’t gotta thank me for it,_ his words read, I _was wantin’ to do this just as much as you were. Goodnight, darlin’._

You gave him a warm smile before the lights turned out on your end, and Jack saw your eyes close as you nestled further into the covers.

“I love you, honey,” he murmured into the dark, wishing for nothing more than for you to be able to hear it on the other side.


	7. Chapter 7

_Jack sat with his back against the wall, looking over at where you were seated beside him. The plain white room sprawled before the two of you, bisected by a piece of heavy glass as it always was. As Jack looked at you, he noticed your gaze trained on the wall opposite of you, seemingly miles away in your mind._

_He continued to look over your features, knowing he was staring and not caring to correct it. You must have felt his eyes on you, because you turned to look back at him. A smile bloomed on your face then, and you reached up to place your hand on the glass with your palm flat against it. In a practiced action, Jack placed his own hand over yours, wishing he could feel the warmth of your skin on the other side._

_You smiled, but it betrayed a sadness deeper down. Like a carefully crafted, painfully thin veneer that was beginning to chip away as it exposed the suffering beneath. The two of you stared at each other in a soft silence for a while, your hands still resting over each other on each side of the glass._

_Just as you opened your mouth, presumably to speak, the entire screen went black. As if someone had just pulled the plug on the lights on the other side of the room, plunging it into pure darkness without warning._

_Panic rising into his throat, Jack moved to face the glass, his hands landing on it with dull thuds. He called your name, pounded against the glass, and tried to keep his terror from engulfing him. As he continued his onslaught on the barrier, a deafening alarm sounded in his side of the room, one that was so loud Jack had to cease his pounding on the glass to cover his ears._

Just as he thought his eardrums would rupture from the screeching noise, he woke with a harsh start, gasping for breath and covered in a cold sweat.

He felt only a split second of sweet relief before another sound filled his ears, this one much, much worse than the last; a harsh beeping, coming from the direction of the universe window. Not as loud as the one in his dream, but it may as well have been considering how silent the world around it was at this time of night.

He focused on the screen, noting how you were still asleep with your back to him. But upon closer inspection, Jack noticed something that caused his heart to leap into his throat.

A notification in the bottom right corner of the screen, reading in bright, flashing letters: “ _WARNING: BATTERY LEVEL CRITICALLY LOW. PLUG INTO POWER SOURCE TO AVOID SHUTDOWN._ ”

Jack’s eyes widened, and he hurled himself out of bed with a painfully sudden alertness. He had the wherewithal to toss a blanket over the screen before turning the light on, just so the ensuing light didn’t wake you. Once he’d blinked his world back into focus after turning his overhead light on, he knelt down to inspect the plugin. It was securely in the socket, and after unplugging and re-plugging the device several times, the alarm was still going. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Jack took a look at the terminal, and noted that it only showed 10% power left on the battery. 10% life left for him to get it to the lab and for someone to fix it. He was gonna cut it close. Much, _much_ too close.

It took him mere moments to toss on some jeans, a t-shirt, and his shoes before hoisting the monitor and terminal into his arms and bolting out the door. Jack took care to keep the screen covered, knowing if you woke up he’d inevitably have to take the time to explain what was happening and risk sending you into as much of a panic as he was currently in. Once he’d gotten the machine in his Bronco and secured, he took off, the rapid beeping matching his racing heart.

He raced to HQ, no doubt breaking several traffic laws in the process and not caring in the slightest. At the first opportunity, he pulled his phone out and dialed Ginger’s number, praying she’d pick up despite it being so late.

“Hullo?” Her groggy voice sounded on the other end, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief before launching into his explanation.

“Ginger, it’s Whiskey,” he said curtly, “I’m on my way to the lab. It’s the window. It ain’t chargin’. It’s plugged in, connected to power, but there’s a warning on the screen and an alarm goin’ off tellin’ me that there’s only 10% battery left. Well, wait…”

He took a brief look at the screen before he felt his chest sink and he continued.

“Make that 7%.”

“I’m on my way,” Ginger replied, and Jack heard shuffling on the other end of the line, a sure sign she was working on getting dressed and out the door too. Jack kept the line open, just in case she needed any information he could preemptively give to make things easier when they both got to the lab.

“If that screen shuts off, we’re fucked,” she said, the sound of jingling keys reaching through the phone.

“I know, Ging,” Jack replied.

“We don’t even have a system built to put in coordinates yet,” she continued, her car engine purring in Jack’s ear, “even if we did, we have no coordinates to go by.”

“I _know_ , Ginger,” Jack replied in an exasperated tone, “why do ya think I’m bustin’ my ass to get to the lab at this time’a night?”

“I know, I know,” Ginger said, “I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there.”

With that, she disconnected the line, leaving Jack to his racing thoughts as he pulled into the Statesman parking garage. He thanked his lucky stars that Ginger only lived a few minutes away, and hoped even then that she’d make it in time.

Jack hauled the screen and terminal stand into the lab, the warning alarm now quicker, louder, and more insistent. Jack risked a look at the battery level against his better judgement, and quickly regretted his decision.

5%. Just 5% left before the screen went dark and you were ripped away from him. 5% until he lost the woman he loved all over again, albeit in different circumstances.

Ginger walked in moments later, looking just as ragged and hastily put-together as Jack himself looked. She immediately turned off the alarm got to work, and Jack excused himself to one of the closed-off med bays so as to not be a distraction.

Jack paced the room, thinking about how if the screen went out, he would never get a chance to tell you how he felt. All the soul-searching and barrier-breaking will have been for naught. He thought on this for a moment before a different, more horrifying realization washed over him.

If that screen went out, and it suddenly blinked out of existence in your world, then you’d wake up alone. You would no doubt go through the rest of your life thinking that Jack had abandoned you; made you believe he cared only to go away and take every hope he’d given you with him. Jack couldn’t have that. He’d never forgive himself.

He continued to pace, carding his fingers through his hair as he tried to ground himself. He thought of the worst-case scenario. If the screen went out, he’d no doubt spend hours, weeks, _years_ sitting in front of it, turning it off and on again in a desperate, pitiful attempt to get you back. He’d never stop, he knew that much. It would consume him, become his new grief-addled addiction. He’d let everything else in his life rot and fall away just to get even the slightest chance of seeing you again, to apologize and promise that he hadn’t left you. Jack hadn’t realized he’d been biting his nails until he felt a sharp sting in the tip of his left index fingernail – he’d bitten it down to the quick and made himself bleed.

Jack tried his best to take a deep breath, sitting on the medical bed near him. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together as he closed his eyes.

Jack Daniels was rarely a praying man, but he was that night.

It seemed as though hours passed before Ginger walked through the med bay doors to find him there. Jack’s head jolted upright, but Ginger was already read with a statement before he even had the chance to ask her about the outcome.

“Everything’s fine,” she said, causing Jack’s entire body to release from the chains of tension that had been pinning him to the floor, “we got it just in time, with 2% battery to spare. Much longer and it wouldn’t have made it. Sounds like installing that battery alarm was a good idea.”

Jack could only nod in agreement, walking numbly towards the screen and attached stand as he felt the waves of adrenaline and anxiety melt away from him, replaced by exhaustion and relief. He carefully removed the blanket from the screen, trying to keep out as much of the harsh fluorescent light of the lab as possible. He heaved out a sigh of relief when he noticed you still had your back to him. Apparently all the excitement on his end of the universe hadn’t disturbed your sleep. He was grateful for that.

“Huh,” Ginger remarked from beside him as he gently replaced the blanket, “she took the screen to bed with her.”

“We both did,” Jack replied, too focused on his relief to think about the ramifications of his statement. So focused was he on how close he’d come to losing you, he failed to notice the knowing look Ginger gave him before she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Whiskey,” she said in a soft tone, “we got it fixed. We saved it. She’s not going anywhere.”

Jack breathed another sigh as he closed his eyes and nodded.

“Oh, before I forget,” Ginger continued, “Agent Soda and I are almost finished with the final round of testing on the talk-to-text feature. We should have it up and running in just a couple of days. We even got it to translate accents.”

A puff of air left Jack’s nostrils in an approximation of a laugh as he quirked a small smile. You’d still be able to read his southern drawl in all its glory, then. Good. He remembered you telling him once that you found it endearing that he chose to write out his accent. He hadn’t even realized he was doing so at the time, but from then on he made an effort to include it in his writings when he could.

Ginger bade him goodbye, choosing to return home to get a few more hours of sleep before coming back in later that morning. Jack checked his watch, and when the 4am time interval was displayed to him, decided that he’d be better off sleeping in the med bay on one of the beds for the rest of that night. Sure, he looked worse for wear, but he figured he could simply explain what happened if anyone asked and they’d understand. At least he hoped they’d understand. Besides, there was no way in hell he was letting that screen out of his sight until one of the techs arrived to work later that morning.

He rolled the terminal into the med bay, swiftly plugging it back in and making sure it still took a charge before going to turn the lights out. As he crawled onto the medical bed, he took the blanket off of the screen once more, this time using it to cover himself against the chill of the lab. Jack fell into a fitful sleep, and this time, he didn’t dream.

He woke to the alarm on his phone, and for a split second he confused it with the sound of the battery alert on the screen again. Once he recovered from his momentary terror, he turned to find you stretching out in bed, having just woken up, yourself. Jack reached for one of the nearby tablets, and typed out a message onto it before holding it up to the window for you to find when you turned around.

 _Mornin’, sunshine_ , it read.

He only had to wait for a few moments before you turned to him, eyes bleary and full of sleep still as you squinted to read the words. You threw him a tired smile before looking at the screen with furrowed brows. Reaching for the pad of paper and pen that you’d sat aside the night before, you penned your reply.

 _Good morning,_ your message read, _did something happen there last night? You look like you’re in a different place than before._

Jack nodded, then began to tell you the full tale of what had happened in those early hours of the morning while you slept peacefully on the other side of the screen. He explained how the power had almost gone out on the screen, nearly blinking you out of his existence and him out of yours. As you read his reply, your eyes wide with fear and concern, Jack remembered how grateful he was that he’d thought to toss his blanket over the window the night before. He would have hated you to have lost sleep over the escapades. When you were done reading, you paused for a moment, then wrote your reply.

 _Thank you for going through all that, Jack,_ you wrote. As if you would ever need to thank him for such a thing. It took him mere seconds to draft his reply.

 _Don’t haveta thank me_ , he said, _couldn’t have you thinkin’ I abandoned you, could I?_

You smiled at him. A sweet, shy smile that always made his heart warm and his head fuzzy. A smile laced with sleep still. A smile that he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life.

Several days passed without incident. Jack caught a few curious stares that first day, simply because he was a far cry from his usually pristine self, but as the day wore on, his fellow agents said less and less about it. He took the screen home that night, and once again set it up by his bedside as he slept. He did not dream of white rooms or blaring alarms, and in fact, he did not dream at all. Most of the time he spent his nights in a fitful state of rest, waking up every half hour or so just to sleepily check on the window’s battery supply before falling back asleep. This continued, night after night, though Jack found sleep coming easier as time went along and nothing went wrong with the machine.

The fourth day from the incident came around, and Jack stood in the lab with Ginger and Soda after work to witness the trial of the new talk-to-text feature. He and you shared easy smiles as Ginger and Soda tapped against the terminal, then turned your attention to them when they both stepped away and nodded at you. They’d wanted your words to be the first that came up on the screen. You took a deep breath, then Jack saw your mouth move, letters appearing on the screen like captions in real time.

 _Hello? Oh, it works!_ The caption read as you grinned.

“Works on our end, too, honey,” Jack said to the screen, watching the words appear, “can you see what I’m sayin’ there?”

You followed along and nodded eagerly, your excited smile matching Jack’s. Ginger and Soda exchanged a look that Jack couldn’t decipher, then announced that the test was a success before clearing Jack to take the screen home for the evening.

When he got you home, he made dinner, finally able to have a conversation with you while he did so. At last, gone were the days of him having to make his meals in silence. At least when you were there for him to talk to, anyway. The two of you fell into easy conversation, one that continued beyond his meal prep and into the two of you eating your respective meals on each side of the screen from the other.

As you spoke, the words appeared on his screen for him to read, much like television captions. Jack assumed that it looked the same on your end as well, where a few lines of text would stay present before disappearing when new words were said.

Jack let his mind drift slightly as he ate. That hideous moment earlier that week had scared him. He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d had as he sat in the medical bay, praying to whoever would listen that Ginger would be able to fix the charging port before he lost you.

This train of thought continued as he wheeled the screen back into the kitchen so he could continue your conversation while he did the dishes and put away the leftovers. How long was he going to keep hiding himself behind the walls he’d built, terrified of rejection? Until another crisis occurred? Until something terrible happened and rendered him unable to actually confess his feelings to you? The thought ate at him. Perhaps it was time he stopped hiding in the shadows and tell you how he felt. Even if you didn’t feel the same way, he hoped that you would at least understand and be kind enough to let him down gently.

Jack wheeled the screen and terminal into his dining room, changing up his typical routine of taking you into the living room with him after dinner. He sat himself across from you at the table, noticing how your eyes followed him as he moved. Once he was seated, he took a deep breath and steadied himself.

“Darlin’, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Darlin’, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya.”

Jack sat there for a beat, watching as your brow furrowed slightly. You gave a slight tilt of your head, then your mouth moved as text appeared on the screen.

_Okay…?_

Jack took a deep breath, then clarified.

“Actually,” he said, “there’s… a lotta somethin’s I gotta tell ya.”

You nodded your head on the other side of the screen, and leaned in ever so slightly in an open invitation for him to continue. And continue he did.

“…I’ve been married before,” he started, nearly blurting out the phrase.

Once again, your brows knitted together, and you tilted your head to one side.

_What happened?_

“She, uh…” Jack started after a deep sigh, “she passed away. Caught up in a robbery gone wrong down at the store. She was… she was pregnant at the time. A little boy. ‘Course, I didn’t know it was a boy until they finished the autopsy and the detective told me.”

 _Oh Jack, I’m so sorry,_ the caption read. Jack met your eyes briefly, his vision starting to blur at the edges. You were leaned in slightly closer, your hands fidgeting as if you wanted to reach out and comfort him. Maybe you did. Jack thought about how much easier it would be to tell his tale if you were there in person, holding his hands in yours. Instead, he shook his head slightly, attempting to clear out his head a little before continuing.

“It was… it was hard,” he explained, “losin’ her. It broke me. Shattered me, more like. I started drinkin’. Gamblin’. Gettin’ into fights. Takin’ a different woman home every night. But none of it helped. None of it made the hurt go away. It was always still there in the mornin’.”

You nodded, briefly casting your gaze downward before returning it to him. You didn’t say anything.

“Someone from Statesman picked me up,” Jack continued, “saw me in a fight and figured I’d be a good asset. I didn’t have anythin’ to lose, so I took em up on their offer. They made me work on gettin’ clean before sendin’ me out into the field. Or, well… I guess clean _er_. I worked on it. Fumbled a lot. Still do sometimes. But it’s… it’s gettin’ easier, I think. Haven’t felt the need to hit up the blackjack table in months.”

Jack saw you give him a soft smile before your mouth moved and the corresponding text appeared below.

 _I’m glad you’re doing better,_ you said _, I’m proud of you, Jack._

He softened a bit at that. You hadn’t looked at him with pity, as if he were some poor, lost soul for you to fix. No, instead you looked at him with a gentle tenderness, a look that said “I know you’ve been through hell, but you’re here now and I’ve got you”.

Suddenly, however, your expression morphed back into confusion, and you continued talking.

 _Why are you telling me all this?_ You asked _. I mean, I’m not upset or anything, in fact I’m grateful for all the trust you’ve placed in me. I’m just… curious. Why now?_

Jack heaved a deep sigh, raking his hands down his face. You knew the darkest parts of him now. And you didn’t seem fazed by it. He was never going to get a better chance than this, and he knew it. It was now or never.

“I’m tellin’ you all this now because… because I’ve had to do some soul-searchin’ over the past few weeks,” Jack started, “and I think I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that she’s… that she’s gone. And that she ain’t comin’ back. I’ve finally made the decision to move on and actually try and be happy. I know now that she’d want that. Just like I’d want that for her if it were the other way ‘round.”

You nodded, and Jack knew that he still had one more chance to stop. This was his last chance to turn back. To just end the conversation with that and be done with it. But he knew with every fiber and sinew of his being that he wasn’t going to end it there. He’d said too much, gone too far to back down now. It was time.

“I’m tellin’ you all this now, sweetheart, because this all ties in to what I _really_ need to tell you, which is…”

You nodded, and Jack said your name softly before continuing.

“…I love you.”

Your eyes widened, your body language conveying the surprise and small amount of shock that you were no doubt feeling. Jack looked at you, sure that his expression betrayed how vulnerable and anxious he felt in that moment.

“I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks,” he said, then began to shake his head, “and I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. You say the word, darlin’, and we’ll just pretend this never happened and forget all about it. I’m not expectin’ you to say it back. I just… I just needed you to know.“

Jack saw you blink a few times, your body moving as if you were taking shaky, uneven breaths. He wondered if it was really the ghosts of tears he saw in your eyes, or if his own blurry vision was misleading. He began to mentally prepare for the inevitable rejection, thinking of all the ways you’d let him down gently and tell him you were flattered but didn’t feel the same way.

Then he saw it. He saw the corners of your mouth twitch upwards, saw your eyes blinking rapidly to stave off the glassy shine that they’d developed. He saw you smile first. Then he saw your mouth move in a way that he’d seen a dozen times in his dreams, enough to know exactly what you were saying without needing to read the caption on the bottom of the screen.

_I love you too, Jack._

He let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. His face split into a grin, coupled with a slight watery laugh as you appeared to do the same.

“Y-Yeah?” He finally managed, “Really?”

You nodded.

_Really. I love you too._

Jack had never seen text at the bottom of a screen look so beautiful. He let out a tearful cough before rubbing at his eyes.

“Sorry for cryin’ on ya, sweetheart,” he said, “I was… I was just scared you wouldn’t feel the same way for this beat-up, old cowboy as he feels about you.”

You looked as though laughter had bubbled forth from you, a beautiful slight shake of your frame as you smiled wider and wiped at your own eyes in return.

 _If you have to apologize for crying, then so do I,_ you said _, And of course I feel the same way. I… I have for a while now, I think._

You had for a while. So all the little signs that Jack had been too pessimistic to accept were really there. He hadn’t been imagining things. You really did love him. Just as he loved you.

“I wish I could hear you say it,” he murmured without thinking. He watched as your expression turned melancholy, and he wanted nothing more than to take the words and shove them back into his mouth.

 _I know_ , you responded, _me too_.

“Well, at least we have this for now,” Jack said, “and I’m sure Ginger and Soda are workin’ on an update so we’ll be able to hear each other.”

 _Yeah, I’m sure. They must be_ , you replied.

Jack smiled at you, and you smiled in return. It was an easy smile, like you’d finally gotten a burden off of your chest. There was still a very tiny undercurrent of sadness there, and Jack resolved to ask you about it soon. He’d always been so afraid of overstepping his boundaries, but he figured you’d be okay with him asking you about that sadness now. At least, he hoped you’d be okay with it. He hoped you’d let him help.

“I love you, angel,” Jack repeated.

 _I love you too, Jack_ , you replied.

He knew right then that those words on that screen were something he’d never, ever get tired of seeing. And he couldn’t wait for the day when he finally got to hear you say them out loud in return.


	9. Chapter 9

_I love you too, Jack._

You loved him.

You _loved_ him.

Jack took his screen with him to bed that night, just as you did. When you were both settled beneath your respective covers and blankets, Jack tossed you a warm, lazy smile that you instantly mirrored. But deep within your grin, there was that melancholy that Jack had noticed before.

“Hey, sugar?” Jack ventured quietly, watching as his words developed at the bottom of the screen.

 _Hm?_ You hummed in response, looking over at him.

“Is…” he began slowly, not wanting to overstep whatever imagined boundaries he guessed you had, “is everything alright? You seem… down. Upset. Like somethin’s bothering you. Now, you ain’t gotta tell me if you don’t want to, I just… I just wanted you to know that I noticed.”

You paused for a moment, casting your gaze downward and worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. As if you were trying to contemplate your next words or course of action. You opened your mouth several times as if to speak, but eventually closed it again before thinking some more.

 _It’s… complicated,_ you eventually said, the text appearing at the bottom of the screen like television captions, _On one hand, I’ve never been this happy. Getting to talk with you so much, getting to see you. Knowing… knowing you feel the same way about me that I feel about you. But on the other hand… I don’t know, I almost feel ungrateful for not being completely content right now._

You paused, a sudden look of uncertainty crossing your features, as if you were afraid you’d said something out of line or upsetting. But Jack only nodded, encouraging you to continue. Your shoulders heaved, as if you were taking in a deep breath, and then you spoke again.

 _I… I want… more of you_ , you ventured, _I want to hear you. Feel you. I want to be near you. And I feel like that’s so much to ask for, considering we’re not even in the same universe. I feel like I should be perfectly content with what we have now, perfectly content to know that you love me and I love you. But every time I wake up in the middle of the night and the world’s completely silent, all I want to do is reach out and wrap my arms around you. And I can’t do that. I may never be able to do that. And here I am, yearning over something that may very well never happen, letting it eclipse the happiness I DO have. It just… it feels selfish of me… I’m sorry, Jack._

Jack’s brows knitted together as he noticed a shine in your eyes, quickly followed by a single tear falling down your cheek. Instinctively, he reached a hand out, desperate to offer you some kind of physical comfort. But his hand stopped just as his fingertips touched the cold, unfeeling glass of the window separating the two of you.

“No,” he blurted, noticing how your eyes flickered to the screen to watch his words scroll by “no, no, no. Sweetheart, don’t apologize. Please, don’t apologize for that. Never apologize for wantin’ more of me. Never apologize for wantin’ _all_ of me. I want the same things, angel.”

Your eyes widened a fraction, and your hand came up to brush the stray tears away in an action that Jack found himself envying. He wanted to be the one to thumb away the tears on your cheeks, wanted to be the one to gently cradle your face in his hands while he spoke soft words to you. But his world – his _universe_ – was a cruel one, one that kept him away from the one thing he wanted most. You.

 _Y-you do?_ You eventually asked, _You want all that too?_

“Of course I do, darlin’,” Jack replied softly, “Why wouldn’t I want to talk to and hold the woman I love?”

You smiled at him then. A small, watery smile that Jack found himself matching as his vision blurred at the edges.

 _I’m just so_ _ **lonely**_ _, Jack_ , you said in what he could only imagine was a small, vulnerable voice, _I’m so… so lonely._

Jack’s heart shattered in his chest. He wanted to shove his fist through the pane of glass in front of him, reach for you on the other side and pull you into his world, his home, his bed. His rational mind told him that it wouldn’t work, that the only thing he’d accomplish by doing that would be to destroy the only connection he had with you. But it didn’t make him want to reach through the universe for you any less.

“I know, angel, I know,” he said softly, an attempt to soothe you that felt futile, “I… I’m lonely, too. You can’t imagine how bad I want you here with me. How bad I wanna hear your voice. But I’m sure Ging and Soda are hard at work makin’ some kinda update to where we’ll be able to have all that. At least, they’d better be. At the end of the day, I _am_ their superior, after all.”

He saw you smile, your body shifting as if you were huffing out a laugh. Good. At least he managed to get you to smile. Jack rarely considered himself a champion of small victories, but he would gladly take this one without complaint.

 _I’ve… I’ve been dreaming about you lately_ , you said. Jack’s eyebrows shot up, his memory immediately taking him back to his own dreams that he’d had of you.

“Yeah?” he asked, “What kinda dreams?”

 _Well…_ you started _, it’s… it’s like we’re in this room. This big, white room with no doors or windows. But we’re still on opposite sides of this glass wall in the middle of it. Like… the room is split in two. And I keep trying to talk to you, but I know you can’t hear me. At some point, some kind of bat or stick or something always shows up on your side of the room, and you grab it and act like you’re gonna break the wall down, but every time you swing at it-_

“You wake up,” Jack finished, his heart racing at the possibilities of you having the exact same dreams that he had been. He’d have to remember to tell Ginger in the morning, see if a shared cognitive dream state was something she’d foreseen during these experiments. 

_Yeah, I wake up,_ you said, _How’d… how’d you know?_

“Cause I’ve been havin’ the same dreams,” Jack said, his tone getting quicker and more excited, “Have been since a few nights after we set up the connection. I thought… I thought it was just me.”

 _And I thought it was just me_ , you said, another smile creeping onto your face, _is that weird? That we’ve apparently been having the same dreams?_

“I dunno,” Jack replied, “I’m gonna talk to Ginger about it when we go in tomorrow mornin’, see if this was somethin’ she might’ve seen comin’. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Or… or maybe we’re connected somehow. At the risk of soundin’ cheesy, maybe all this was meant to happen somehow.”

 _You mean like we were meant to be?_ you asked, a soft grin appearing on your features.

“Yeah,” Jack said softly, “Maybe like we were meant to be.”

The two of you slept with your foreheads touching that night. Or rather, you _would_ have, if not for the cold, uncaring pane of glass between the two of you. Jack looked into your eyes before closing his for the night, his mind desperately wishing for his next dream to take him beyond the wall and into your arms.


	10. Chapter 10

Jack woke softly the next morning, the light of the morning sun gliding into his bedroom window and into his eyes. As his vision adjusted, Jack noticed that on the other side of the screen, you were curled in closer to the window than you had been when you’d fallen asleep the night before. Jack’s heart warmed at the idea that you were subconsciously trying to move closer to him in your sleep, but that thought was sat aside for a later time when he saw you blink awake, your eyes softening when they looked over to him from your side of the universe. Bleary-eyed and stunningly beautiful, Jack found himself helpless to resist mirroring your tired smile.

“Good mornin’, gorgeous,” he rasped, his voice raw from overnight disuse.

 _Good morning yourself, handsome_ , you replied. Jack found his chest blooming with multitudes of butterflies as he read your words on his screen.

“You ready for the weekend?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued, “Say, since we’ve both got some time off, why don’t you let me show you around outside a little more? I know you’ve seen the house, but I’ve got some land out back that I’d like to show you too. Whaddya say, sweetheart? Feel up to takin’ a walk with your cowboy from the comfort of your own chair?”

Jack saw you smile, almost bashful in nature before you nodded and moved your mouth to trigger the screen captioning.

 _I’d love that_ , you said, _but how about you tell me a little bit before we get up and get going? I don’t know about you, but I think I still need a little time to wake up_.

Jack smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, me too,” he responded. “But I think you’re gonna really like it out there. Got a few acres all to myself, a little pond way out in the back with a big ol’ shade tree that I like to sit under sometimes in the evening and watch the fish and turtles swim around. There’s a little stand of trees off to the side, too. Maybe some day I’ll figure out how to rig this thing so I can take you out for a walk in the woods when all the trees start changin’ colors.”

 _It sounds beautiful,_ you replied, _I’d definitely like to see the woods when everything starts changing colors. But it all sounds exactly like what I pictured you having for some reason. Though I’m surprised you didn’t mention having any horses._

“Well, I don’t have any just yet,” Jack mused, “I’m out on missions for so long sometimes I’d feel bad leavin’ em with someone else to care for ‘em. Sure would like to settle down enough some day to get some though.”

Settling down… Jack hadn’t thought of that idea since… well, anyway. He watched you smile, almost as if you were giggling a little as you spoke.

 _I certainly hope you get to,_ you said, _kinda hard to be a bonafide cowboy without a horse or two roamin’ around_.

“Yeah, don’t I know it, sweetheart,” Jack countered as he heaved a sigh and moved to get up, “but how’s about you and me go for that walk? I dunno how it is where you’re at, but it’s awful nice up this way.”

 _Actually, it’s raining here_ , you said, moving to get out of your bed as well, _So it’ll be really nice to see some good weather_.

Jack quickly changed into a pair of jeans, pulling the screen to face him as he changed out of his loose sleep shirt and into one fit to be seen outside in.

“See somethin’ you like, sugar?” he teased as he stood shirtless, smiling widely as he saw you avert your gaze with a shy grin of your own.

 _Maybe_ , you said in response, returning your gaze to him and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in a way that Jack knew he’d be thinking about later.

“Well it’s all yours now, darlin’,” he mused, pulling a fresh shirt on and grabbing the screen to pull it away from the console, “But enough about that, let’s get you on outside into the sunshine.”

 _Cause if I keep thinkin’ about it I’m just gonna get right back into bed,_ his mind finished for him.

Jack found himself grateful for the fact that he’d managed to rig up an easy system for carrying the screen, and although it was a larger screen than he was accustomed to carrying with him for long distances, he found himself without any discomfort that the action might have brought him beforehand. A simple set of leather strips served as handles for it, keeping it secure while also allowing him to carry it close by and see and talk to you at the same time.

He noticed you shifting your own screen around, staying in your pajamas as you went into another room and sat down in a plush chair as he walked out of his back door.

“Guess I oughta let you see the porch first,” he said, moving the screen around. It wasn’t a full, wrap-around porch like he dreamed of, but it was covered and wide enough for him to have a pleasant seating area, “It’s kinda nice to sit out here and watch the rain come down every now and then.”

 _I bet,_ you said, _it looks lovely_.

“Just wait ‘til you see the rest of it, sugar,” Jack said, and made his way off of the porch and down the few steps to solid ground.

Jack walked through his property slowly, taking time to show you every tree and feature he could think of. He walked you along the stand of trees off to the side, letting you catch a glimpse into the wooded area within as he made his way down to the pond on the far side of his land. Along the way, he couldn’t help but mentally note certain areas that would be perfect for a stable or a paddock. He’d managed to let his thoughts slip far enough to imagine getting two horses – one for him and one for you – before he felt a pang of melancholy and reeled his emotions back in to a reasonable level.

“And this here’s that shade tree I was tellin’ you about,” Jack said as he got closer to the towering maple tree on the little knoll that overlooked the modestly-sized pond nearby, “I’ve watched a lotta sunsets beneath this old tree.”

 _It’s got a nice view,_ Jack read on the screen as you grinned, _maybe we could watch one of those sunsets together sometime?_

“I’d love nothin’ more, darlin’,” Jack answered, basking in the glow of your smile.

Jack seated himself down next to the tree, tilting the screen so you would be able to see the pond and him at the same time. For a moment, he simply sat there, watching your gaze filter out over the water as he smiled at you. When you turned your eyes back to him, he continued to stare, prompting what looked like a giggle from you.

 _What’re you looking at?_ You asked.

“You,” he replied simply, “I dunno, I just… honey I spent a long time thinkin’ about how I felt about you. Thinkin’ that you’d never feel the same way. Thinkin’ about how it was unfair of me to even _want_ you to. But…”

 _Here we are_ , you finished for him.

“Yeah,” Jack said, “here we are. Me an’ my lady, enjoyin’ the weather together out beneath the shade tree.”

There it was. That same shy smile he’d grown to love so much. The one that told him you were just as smitten with him as he was with you. It was a smile that he returned easily, and one that he realized that he’d been giving you for weeks on end now.

The two of you sat out there beneath the tree for quite some time, you enjoying the view and Jack enjoying the warm sunshine and gentle breeze ans he sat next to you in the only way he could. He couldn’t have told you how long the two of you stayed there, but eventually he began to yawn, stretching his arms above his head as he looked over to you.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Jack said gently as he stood up and lifted the screen, “let’s get you back inside. How about you make some lunch with me and we’ll sit down and watch a movie? I’ll put the subtitles on so you can read ‘em.”

 _That sounds incredible_ , you said, a lovely little smile lighting up your face as Jack began to walk.

Just as the two of you returned into the house and Jack had gotten the screen re-attached to the charging console in his room, however, his phone began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket, informing you that Ginger’s name had come up on his caller ID before he sat down on the side of his bed.

“Hello?” he answered, giving you a quick smile as Ginger’s voice sounded through the receiver.

“Whiskey, can you bring the screen into the lab? It’s urgent,” she said, sending a wave of dread through Jack’s entire being.

“What? Why?” he asked quickly, noticing how you had begun to mirror his bare look of concern.

“Agent Soda and I came into the lab to do some extra work,” she explained, “and we think we’ve managed to crack the code sequencing for a new screen update.”

“Can’t it wait until Monday?” Jack pressed as he breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that nothing was seriously wrong but still not wanting to give up any of the quality time he was finally getting to spend with you now that he knew you returned his affections, “How big is the update?”

“You’re going to wanna get down here,” Ginger replied. Then she said something that caused Jack’s entire world to stop.

“We think we’ve found a way to let you hear her.”


	11. Chapter 11

_“We think we’ve found a way to let you hear her.”_

The words stopped Jack cold as he turned his gaze to you. You still wore the same look of confused concern on your face, and as Jack bid Ginger goodbye and told her he’d bring the screen right in, he turned back to you.

“Hey, it’s nothin’ bad,” he started, “but that was Ging. They want me to bring ya back into the lab.”

 _What? Why?_ You asked, your face relieved but quickly falling, _Can’t it wait until Monday?_

“It could,” Jack acquiesced, “But somethin’ tells me you’re gonna wanna go in just as much as I do.”

 _What do you mean?_ You asked, and Jack let a full grin bloom onto his face.

“They think they’ve come up with another update for us, baby,” he said, “one that’ll let me hear that pretty voice of yours.”

Jack watched as your face lit up, a giddy smile breaking across your features as you brought your clasped hands up to your mouth.

 _You mean it?_ You asked, _Have they really come up with a way for us to hear each other?_

“I think so,” he said, grabbing the screen and console as he started to walk through the house to grab his hat and keys, “I think the main point of me bringin’ ya in is for them to test it to make sure, but if that test goes well, then I’m assumin’ we’ll be able to have sound from then on.”

 _Well then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!_ You said, drawing a hearty laugh from Jack as he packed up the device to carry it outside.

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’!” He responded, “I promise, I’m just as eager for this as you are, sweetheart.”

He saw you laugh as he brought the equipment out to his Bronco, chuckling lightly with you before loading it into the passenger seat. As he started the car and drove out onto the street, he was struck by the desire to reach out and hold your hand as he drove.

 _One step at a time, Jack,_ he chastised himself, _don’t go gettin’ your hopes up too high._

The rest of the drive was uneventful, and when he pulled into the Statesman parking area, he made quick work of getting the equipment out of the car and to the lab. Every step was twice as long as he remembered it being, and the elevator took at least three times as long as he remembered it usually taking.

Ginger ushered Jack in when he arrived, helping him set up the console and screen near to the programming terminal where Agent Soda was still hard at work putting the finishing touches on the update.

“So how sure are we that this is gonna work?” Jack asked.

“No idea,” Ginger replied, “That’s the main reason for you two coming in. We’ll have no idea if our programming actually works until we test it.”

“And… the test _is_ safe, right?” Jack ventured, “No chance of it messin’ up the connection?”

“Not that we’re aware of,” Ginger replied, “But… there’s always that chance. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Jack looked at you, noticing your intent gaze on him. You both shared a silent look, then you nodded to him. The risk of something going wrong was worth the potential of getting to hear your voice.

“Let’s do it.”

Ginger gave him a nod, turning to Agent Soda and talking to him about the specifics of the experiment. Jack, meanwhile, took the time to look at you, giving you a gentle smile that you returned in an attempt to reassure you.

Everything would be fine.

It had to be.

All at once, Ginger turned back, a few cables in her hand that she attached to the window console and the window itself. Agent Soda inspected the elements one last time before the group shared a look, and Jack gave them a final nod to begin the experiment. A few pressed buttons later, and…

Nothing changed.

The agents, as well as yourself, attempted to speak, but text still appeared at the bottom of the screen. No audio.

Jack heard Agent Soda murmur out a curse as he turned back to the programming terminal, filtering through the code with Ginger as Jack turned back to you.

“They’ll get it figured out, sugar,” Jack soothed, noticing the disappointed look on your face. You nodded in response, attempting to give him a smile but not quite succeeding.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” Soda said with a hint of frustration as Ginger got your attention.

“When I give the signal, you start speaking,” she told you, “Maybe it will work if your side is the one to initiate it for the first time.”

You nodded, and once again the same sequence of buttons were pressed on Jack’s side of the universe.

Ginger pointed to you.

Jack was pretty sure he stopped breathing.

And then, all at once-

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

If you really pressed him, Jack would tell you that his first thought in response was that he had just heard the fucking angels sing. He couldn’t stop the misty smile that spread across his face, and he took a deep breath to avoid a possible crack in his voice as he responded.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, watching as a beaming smile broke from you, “we can hear ya. Can you hear us?”

You nodded rapidly, your own eyes starting to shine as you responded.

“I can hear you!” You cried, bringing your hands back up to your face as you clasped them together, “Oh, Jack, I can _hear_ you!”

Your voice was beautiful, even more so when it said his name. It was slightly different than how he’d originally imagined it, but it was not at all unpleasant. On the contrary, he would have been content to only hear your voice for the rest of his damn life.

Ginger and Soda exchanged a look, then turned to leave as Ginger patted him on the shoulder and said something about “we’ll give you two a moment”.

Jack simply nodded in response, his eyes never leaving yours as he heard the automatic doors to the lab open before closing again.

“Your voice sounds so pretty, sweetheart,” Jack said softly, pure happiness and adoration lacing his words.

“So does yours,” you responded gently.

On a whim, Jack reached his hand out, pressing his palm against the glass as he had so many times before in his dreams. In turn, you brought your hand to his, mirroring his position as you two simply looked at each other for an untold amount of moments. Neither of you could feel the touch or warmth of the other’s hand, but for the time being, the gesture alone was enough to sate Jack’s overwhelming desire to bring you into his arms.

“Y’know, it’s funny,” you finally said, “all this time I’ve been wanting to hear your voice, and now I don’t know what to say.”

“Neither do I,” Jack admitted, “Seems like nothin’ I could say would do the moment justice.”

You nodded, pausing for a moment as you looked down before meeting Jack’s gaze again.

“I love you, Jack.”

His eyes watered, a smitten smile playing on his features as he willed himself to respond without his voice breaking.

“I love you too, darlin’.”

He caught sight of a wayward tear fall down your cheek, and nearly reached out to thumb it away on pure instinct.

“Been a long time since someone said that to me,” you said, and Jack’s heart broke for you. How could that possibly be true? He wanted to ask about the company you kept, wanted to march to them himself and tear them a new one for taking someone like you apparently for granted. But he figured there would be time for questions later.

“Well, you’re gonna be hearin’ it a lot more often now,” he reassured, and he knew deep within himself that he absolutely meant that.

With that, Ginger and Soda walked back in, causing Jack to quickly wipe at his eyes to hide the no doubt glassy look he was sporting. With a few final adjustments made, his fellow agents gave him an all-clear to take the console back home and continue on his day, an offer he accepted without hesitation.

He loaded the window and terminal into the Bronco, quickly making his way back to his modest ranch before cutting the engine and turning back to where the window sat in his passenger seat.

“The ride a little different with the sound on?” He asked lightly.

“Yeah,” you replied with a smile, “your car’s a little louder than I imagined.”

“Oh, darlin’, if you thought _that_ was different, just wait until you hear the _horn_ ,” he replied with a cheeky grin before pressing in the middle of his steering wheel, watching as your face shifted from bewildered to delighted to pure laughter.

“Jack, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever _heard_!” You cried, peals of laughter filling the cab of the Bronco.

It was a sound Jack could listen to for the rest of his life.


	12. Chapter 12

The two of you did manage to get around to having that movie night.   
Jack placed the screen onto the couch and you settled onto your own as you watched him flutter about the place setting everything up.  
“You must have a lot of these movie nights,” you said, “what with all the equipment you have and all.”  
“Not really,” Jack mused, turning on his television and sitting next to the screen to look at you, “I thought I would when I first moved in, but... I never really had anyone willin’ to come by that often and make any use of the setup.”  
“Well, you do now,” you said lightly, causing Jack to throw you a tender smile.  
“Yeah,” he said softly as the movie started, “I sure do, sweetheart.”  
As far as Jack was concerned, the only thing missing from that evening was his arm around your shoulders. Every once in a while throughout the movie, Jack would hear your laughter ringing from your side of the screen. It made him smile no matter how many times he heard it, and he knew that it was a habit he would likely carry with him for a long, long time.   
Once the film was over, Jack moved to turn the equipment off, coming back to you and asking you if you were ready for bed. You nodded, yawning for good measure, and he lifted the screen and took it with him into his room. As he placed it down, he went back for the charging console, and relocated it to his bedside as well. The two of you talked as he got changed into his sleepwear, mostly about the movie. However, the overall conversation was a winding one, meandering across subjects and easily gliding into anecdotes or jokes.   
When Jack climbed into bed, he saw that you were already in yours, the covers pulled up as you tucked yourself in.  
“You look mighty comfortable, sweetheart,” Jack drawled, smiling at how you were curled beneath the blanket.   
“I am,” you said, then continued in a sheepish tone, “I think I’d be more comfortable if you were here, though.”  
“I know, baby,” he said, his gaze growing soft, “I wish I could be there too. I think about it all the time.”  
“Yeah?” You asked softly.   
“Yeah,” Jack replied.  
Silence fell between the two of you then, and Jack began to consider what he thought your life was like on the other side of the screen. Of course, the two of you had spoken at length about your lives, but he always got the feeling that there was something you were keeping from him. Something so personal that he dare not ask you to divulge it before you were ready to.   
“Hey Jack?” You asked eventually, breaking him out of her reverie and causing him to look at you, “...Why do you have to be so far away?”  
Your tone broke his heart. It was so small, so vulnerable. In just a few words you had conveyed to him how much you needed him, and he now understood that you were just as desperate to have him there as he was to _be_ there.   
“I know, baby,” he said, wishing he could reach through the screen and pull you to him, “I wish I wasn’t. I wish that all the damn time. But hey, at least we can finally hear each other now, yeah? That’s gotta count for something.”  
“You’re right,” you replied, “I love hearing your voice. It’s so soothing, y’know?”  
“Well I’m glad you like my voice as much as I like yours, sweetheart,” Jack said with a grin, a silence falling over the two of you once more.   
You closed your eyes then, and before long your breathing evened out and Jack could tell you’d drifted off to sleep.  
“Goodnight, darlin’,” Jack said softly as his own eyes began to close, “I love you.”  
Just as his eyes closed, they opened again.  
And once more, he was in that damned room.   
Jack had thought that his dreams like this were over. That since he’d confessed his feelings to you, there would be nothing for his subconscious to pester him about. But he was apparently mistaken.  
Either that, or it was _your_ subconscious trying to work something out. He vaguely remembered you telling him during his waking hours that you had these dreams too. He made his way over to the clear glass wall that bisected the room, already finding you there with your hand pressed against the glass. He placed his own hand over yours, his gaze softening as he did so.  
“Hey there, sweetheart.”  
“Hey there yourself, cowboy.”  
You gave him a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Then, the scene blinked, as if it were shifting into another existence, and your expression changed. Now you looked as though you were barely holding things together, tears brimming your eyes as your lip quivered.   
“Talk to me, baby,” Jack said without thinking, “tell me what’s wrong.”  
“I don’t even know where to start, Jack,” you said in a hushed whisper, “I just... listen, promise me if something - _anything_ \- happens to me, that you won’t forget about me.”  
“What?” Jack asked, alarmed and confused, “Why? What do you think is gonna happen to yo-“  
“Just promise me! Please!” you cried, tears now cascading down your cheeks.  
“I promise!” He replied in a rush, “I promise, baby. I’m not gonna forget about you. Not now, not ever. Now, _please_ , tell me what’s going on.”  
You took a deep breath, shaking slightly before him. You looked into his eyes, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, your side of the room went completely dark. Jack suddenly saw nothing on your side; no hand pressed against the glass, no walls, no floor. It was as if the other half of the room he was in simply no longer existed.  
He called your name - screamed it, actually. He banged his fist against the glass in a futile attempt to get your attention, as if doing so would turn the lights back on and bring you back.   
Just as he fell to his knees, desperately hopeless, he woke with a start.   
Once he had gotten his bearings in the dark of his room, he turned to the screen to look for you. He found you sitting upright in bed, your knees pulled close as you stared ahead of you into the dark. He gently called your name, prompting you to look over at him. What little he could see of your face, you appeared shell-shocked. He didn’t need to ask you if you’d shared his dream.  
“Please tell me what’s going on, baby,” Jack pleaded softly, reaching up to place his hand on the screen. You hesitated, then mirrored his movement before speaking in a hushed, shaky tone.  
“I... I can’t,” you said, “They told me not to.”  
“What? Who told you not to?” He asked. Once more, you hesitated, biting your lip and waiting before you answered him.  
“The others. Ginger and Champ. They told me not to tell.”  
Jack blinked in confusion. What? Why would they have told you not to tell him what was bothering you? He didn’t understand, and he told you as much.  
“Back in the beginning,” you admitted, “when they were first asking me all those questions to see how similar our worlds were. They asked me something, and I answered, and they told me not to tell you what I’d told them.”  
“That doesn’t help me, sweetheart,” Jack replied, attempting to stave off his anger at his fellow agents. He didn’t want to take it out on you, knowing it would only serve to make you withdraw more. But he needed to know what they knew.  
“I know,” you said, taking another deep breath, “but I... they said they had a feeling you and I were gonna get close, and they didn’t want it to effect you. I’m... I’m so sorry Jack... I didn’t want to lie to you...”  
He noticed more tears shining your eyes, and rushed to comfort you, his own anger taking a backseat for the moment.  
“No, no baby please don’t cry,” he soothed, “I’m not mad at you, I promise. Please, don’t apologize for that, I know you didn’t have a choice.”  
You nodded, wiping at your eyes before continuing.  
“I’ve wanted to tell you the truth for so long, but every time I bring it up, they just get more adamant that I not. But Jack, it’s killing me to keep it from you. I know I’m gonna get in so much trouble with them, and I didn’t tell you sooner because I was afraid they’d get so angry they’d turn the screen off. I was so afraid I’d lose you.”  
Jack seethed as you spoke. Ginger and Champ had effectively taken you both hostage against each other, making you keep something obviously wildly important from him out of fear that they’d retaliate.  
“You’re not gonna lose me, baby,” he said softly, “I promise. If you still don’t wanna tell me, that’s okay. I won’t force you. But you ain’t gonna lose me if you do. I’ll make sure of that.”  
You nodded once again, looking him in the eye and taking a deep breath to steady yourself.  
“Well, the truth is...” you began, “our worlds aren’t exactly as similar as you think.”  
“Whaddya mean?” Jack asked.  
“Well, for starters, your world is still alive and thriving.”  
You went quiet for a moment, leaving Jack to contemplate your words. As he did, a cold sense of dread washed over him, realizing that if your worlds weren’t as similar as he’d originally thought, then that meant that-  
“Jack, my world is dying.”


End file.
